Hello. Inspired by AOS28  I have recently invented a setting in the realm of life.

Deep in the realm of Ghyran lies the Whisperwhile forest. Withered oaks and sickly ash trees encircle the Bitterbile lakes, whilst the rest of the forest is covered with lush green flora. Trees bigger than watchtowers and deadly plants as far as the eye can see, added with the warm climate and pockets of realmstone make this the ideal place for many strange animals and beasts to roam. Deep in the forest lies the Fogshroud Realmgate, which leads to the great trading sky islands of chamon, which is where the main sky ports of the realm of metal are located.

If one travelled for three days due north into the forest, (not easy when everything, including the plants, think you are its next meal) they would come across Fort Ironfist. Built many years ago when the warrior chamber of the Anvils of the Heldenhmmer, the Ironfists pushed the tides of chaos out of the forest, it stands as a fearsome bastion, sitting above the surrounding trees on a spire of great rock. The Stormcast that guard the fort are experts in finding their way through the forest, slashing at vines with their storm sabres and burning away deadly plants with their lanterns. Despite this, there are many hollow suits of sigmarite armour encased in tree trunks, where the tree's magical properties have prevented it from returning to Azyr.  The Ironfists live up to there name, and the the areas around the fort are ruled ruthlessly. If Lord Celestant Koronus Ironfist so much as smells the taint of chaos in the air, whole acres of the forest will be burned down, for it to regrow in a week or two. 

Many small warbands live in the Whisperwhile forest however. It is said that a shadowy figure stalks the forest, as big as a Stormcast but clad in a black cloak. He carries a huge sword and crossbow of prestigious size, and it is said that wherever he goes, the lands are purged of the taint of chaos and foul magics. Sometimes, Lord Castellant Typhon Baleface will wonder the forest with his loyal Gryph-hound and his band of retainers, searching for anything deathly, or chaotic, but he often finds nothing. The spirit lord is said to walk the forest at night, accompanied by his band of spectres and spirit hosts, or raising retinues of skeletons or zombies to do his bidding. A heavy mist accompanies him wherever he goes, and he often whispers necrotic secrets to anyone willing to listen. The tree tribes of the forest live in the highest treetops they can find. They are primitive and use poisonous weapons, and are clad in the fur of those mysterious beasts they have killed. Deep underground are the great duardin tunnels, which are said to spread throughout all of Ghyran. Nobody knows what secrets they hold, but some say the duardin that live there hold a dark one...

And:

The creaking and groaning of rusted metal can be heard in the dead of night along the shores of the Bitterbile lakes. Kagnus the Befouled, a harbinger of decay, emerges from the pustule green lakes and starts towards the lush undergrowth of the forest. He is the unholy fusion of man and horse, a centaur of Nurgle. his armour is so rusted that when it moves it sounds like the shrieks and cries of the dying, and his skin leaks oozing green liquid everywhere. He carries a scythe of rotwood and a shield of boil infested hardened flesh. Behind him trail his minions. Seven blightkings, each clad in rusting armour, clamber out the water. They are the Rotrust warriors, beings who have felt the touch of Kagnus. As they make their way into the forest, the carnivorous plants shrink back in repulsion. Everywhere the rotbringers step, new plants grow, but these are plant of rot and disease, not of life. Once the blightkings and their leader have returned from their mysterious trip, they saturate themselves in the vile liquid of the lakes once more and sink beneath the surface, waiting for nightfall again.

And(!): 

"Be off with you!" shouted the withered old man. He picked up a bottle of liquid and threw it at the spiders. The vial exploded in a shower of sparks, and the spiders scuttled out of the old man's house in the forest. 

"Those damn spiderfang grots! They're getting closer! I would burn down half the forest with warp fire if it wasn't for those damn Stormcast. The moment they know i'm here they'll burn me as a heretic! " The old man was shouting now. His familiars jumped about and muttered under their breath. He looked at his workbench. Vials and tubes full of bubbling liquid sat on top of of cauldrons and metal stands. "Yes, this'll do." He picked up one of the glass bottles and sniffed it. "Perfect. Just right for killing those devilish spiders. Now, if only i could..." There was acrashing noise as the door was smashed down. In the doorway stood a huge figure clad in black and gold. He held a war hammer in one hand and a shield in the other. "By order from Lord veritant Kylos  Witchbane, i brand you as a heritic and a worshipper of chaotic powers!" 

"I don't know what you mean!" The old man responded with a maddened cackle, as he threw bottles and vials of various liquids at the Stormcast. They ignigted instantly and a blue flashing light burst into the sky as the stormcast died.  "Come! Quick!" The old man shouted at his familiars as he ran out of the hut and into the forest before Sigmar's vengeance could strike.